Brain Freezy
by Kleenexwoman
Summary: A homicidal maniac frequents the Quick Stop. Apologies to anyone who is actually homicidal or a maniac.


Title: Brain Freezy  
  
Author: Kleenexwoman  
  
Rating: PG-13 for slight swearing and implied violence.  
  
Summary: Crossover between the Askewniverse and the Vasqueziverse. I'm warning you that someone gets killed.  
  
Disclaimer: The people that own the characters (Kevin Smith and Jhonen Vasquez, namely) know what belongs to them. I own nothing except for the concept and I make no money off it.  
  
Notes: Am finishing this in a hotel room in Port Huron, Michigan, with the Canadian border less than 500 yards away, the only thing separating us an expanse of dark, roiling, water where semi-insane scuba divers with flashlights lurk in the cthonian depths. Also, my little brother won both of his hockey games today.  
  
Soundtrack: "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" by the Beatles, "Happiness Is A Warm Gun" by the same, "Johnny's Got A Gun" by, I think, Aerosmith, and "I Am Going To Kill You For No Good Reason" by the duet of Eminem and Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. Ha. Like that's ever going to happen. Oh, and "Dr Pepper's Lonely Hearts Convenience Store Band" by an alternate universe version of the Beatles. And the theme from "The Simpsons" over and over and over. Thank you, come again!  
  
*************************************  
  
It had started with the graffiti.  
  
It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just a spray-painted symbol on the outside of the Quick Stop. A capital Z with a question mark after it: Z? in thick block letters with a frame around it.  
  
Neither of them had any clue who had done it. There weren't any gangs in Red Bank. The most likely candidates were Jay and Silent Bob, of course, but Dante really didn't think that they possessed enough intelligence to think of such an arcane symbol. If it had been "FUCK" or "SNOOCHIE BOOCHIES" or "JAY AND SILENT BOB KICK ASS" he would have just rolled his eyes and tossed another layer of gray paint onto the brick. But this was really, really weird.  
  
Randall had freaked out. He swore it was the mark of some kind of conspiracy that had tagged the Quick Mart for destruction or invasion or brain sucking. Dante hadn't paid any attention at first; Randall always went off on these stupid tangents.  
  
It seemed that the blonde boy might have been right, however. Something was definitely happening.  
  
The Quick Stop had always been a monochromatic place, dull and dingy with the low-grade lightning and inferior products. But shades of had gray turned to sharp black and white. Shadows had lengthened and taken on lives of their own, sometimes more vivid and real than the things themselves. Everything was a little skewed, off-center, almost Cubist.  
  
The things themselves had changed. One day, while checking the pop machines, Dante had noticed that the brand name of the slush machine was different.  
  
"Randall, have we always had a Brain Freezy machine?"  
  
"Sure," said Randall, who was, as usual, not doing anything useful. "You know what that is. You pull the little lever and stuff comes out."  
  
Dante frowned. "No, I mean the brand name. I don't remember it being Brain Freezy."  
  
Randall started at him. "Dude, you really have to pay attention to these things. Of course it's always been Brain Freezy."  
  
Dante climbed down from the counter. "Are you sure? I always thought—" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."  
  
"Hey, have you read this yet?" Randall passed a piece of paper to him. "Memo from what's-his-name. You know, the guy that owns the company."  
  
Dante scanned it. "This says that we have to turn off the slushy—sorry, Brain Freezy machine at 2 A.M." He crumpled up the offending paper and threw it in the garbage can. "Is he nuts? After 2 is when we get most of our munchie trade."  
  
Little things like that frightened him the most.  
  
*  
  
The day that they finally turned the machines off was the day the homicidal maniac came in.  
  
It was about 3 A.M., and Randall was taking a nap on top of the ramen noodles. Dante was dozing quietly, head propped on hand.  
  
He came stalking in, glancing around languidly as though he was afraid that he was being followed by, perhaps, a turtle. Blue hair and a ripped black shirt, huge clunky leather boots and skinny, almost emaciated limbs. Went straight to the newly-christened Brain Freezy machine.  
  
After a few seconds, a plaintive cry arose from the fountain beverage cluster. "Why isn't there anything coming out? I have a strong craving for Icy Ham."  
  
Dante yawned. "Um, we have to turn off the machine at 2 A.M. Sorry about that."  
  
The young man narrowed his eyes. "I've been in this situation before." He shook his head. "No. Can't..."  
  
Randall looked up from his curled-up position on top of the noodles. "Can't what?"  
  
"Kill people. My therapist said it wasn't a good idea. He said that it could contribute to my antisocial tendencies."  
  
"You kill people? Cool." Randall was clearly impressed.  
  
"Well, I used to. I never got caught. I finally checked myself into a mental hospital, and I feel a lot better about myself now."  
  
"Really? If I could kill people and not get caught, I'd...um...Hey, mushroom flavor!" Randall dug into the pile of noodle packs.  
  
The blue-haired man smiled. "Hey, I love those!" He picked one up. "So is the machine back on?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. It was a misunderstanding."  
  
"Cool. Can I have a Brain Freezy too?" Randall asked.  
  
Dante sighed. "Yes. You may have a Brain Freezy."  
  
*  
  
The next day, a girl walked into the store. She had purple hair. Dante was getting used to people with unusual hair, but he wasn't prepared for the ear-piercing squeak coming from the toy that the weird person accompanying her was holding.  
  
The purple girl dumped an armload of ramen packets onto the counter. "Who are those idiots outside?"  
  
"Oh, that's just Jay and Silent Bob. Don't pay any attention to them." Dante rang up the noodles, noticing vaguely that the packets now sported a mascot. It was a stick figure with hair sticking out of its head. There was a word bubble coming out of its mouth. Dante tried to read the printing inside.  
  
"It says, "Go, forth, little baby, and become a happy cabbage!" It's a new mascot they're trying out," the girl volunteered.  
  
Dante studied the package. "So what's he called, Noodle Man?"  
  
"Noodle Boy. Happy Noodle Boy. I know the...well, I used to know the guy that designed him. It actually started out as a really stupid comic. I guess he got a contract."  
  
"Weird. Hey, what's your friend doing?" The squeaky toy was being squeaked at Randall, who was laughing his ass off. There was an undercurrent of sidekick flirtation in the air.  
  
"Just ignore her." Devi hefted the bags over her shoulder and walked out, followed by squeaks.  
  
A few seconds later, Dante heard Jay screaming, "GET THAT STUPID FUCKING SQUEAKY THING AWAY FROM ME!"  
  
*  
  
It happened a few weeks later. It was a little after 3 A.M., as usual. Dante had gotten used to the waning and waxing of the black-and-white shadows and the people whose eyes seemed to be square. The world turned to outline around the time that the moon rose and went back to normal right after daybreak.  
  
The young man with the blue hair came into the Quick Stop as usual, but this time he was covered in blood. He didn't act any differently, or make any comment; just got his Brain Freezy and held out a limp red dollar to Dante, sucking on the straw as though it was a umbilical cord.  
  
Dante did not want to provoke a homicidal maniac. He had heard stories about people who threw dynamite into bathroom stalls and could dispatch an entire fast-food restaurant full of people armed only with a spork.  
  
Unfortunately, Randall hadn't heard the stories. "Dude, what did you do? Kill someone?"  
  
"Yep," said the blue-haired young man.  
  
"Oh." Randall was silent for a moment. "Um, who? I mean, just out of curiosity."  
  
"Someone outside." Slurp slurp slurp on the Brain Freezy. "Some guy with blonde hair. He called me a fag. It's not like I took offense at him calling me names-I'm used to that anymore, and with the therapy I've learned not to mind it. It's just." Sigh. "People assume so many things. Just because you're skinny and keep to yourself automatically means you're not masculine, and not to be sufficiently masculine is to not be worthy of the respect due a human being." A pause. "I just don't think people who think like that deserve to live."  
  
"...Okay. I'm going to go check the inventory now," said Randall.  
  
Dante looked out the window. It took a second for his brain to register the sight.  
  
Jay's body was lying on the ground, bent and spread at unnatural angles. His head was hanging off, attached to his torso only by a thin strand of vertebra.  
  
But that wasn't what made Dante nearly vomit.  
  
Silent Bob was kneeling in front of the body with a look of pure anguish on his face, cradling Jay's head in his hands. His eyes were closed, and it looked like he was screaming or wailing but Dante couldn't hear anything.  
  
Dante forced himself to look back at the customer. He was waiting for his change. The customer needed his change-that was why Dante was there. Service ethic. Right. Okay. Be a clerk.  
  
He gingerly placed the bloodstained dollar in the cash register and dropped a few pennies into the Take-A-Penny-Leave-A-Penny tray, since the man had already wandered outside.  
  
Randall poked his head out from the back room. "Is he gone?"  
  
"Yes, he's gone," said Dante. He had to sit down. The world was spinning a little. The Quick Stop had always been a locus for all sorts of weird characters that popped up and were killed off without a trace, but the two stoners that hung out there day in and day out had seemed like a permanent fixture. And now one of them was dead.  
  
At least, Dante thought with just a touch of hysteria, he wouldn't have to worry about Jay lifting cartons of cigarettes anymore.  
  
*  
  
A few minutes later, Silent Bob came into the store, looking very calm and composed. His face was completely expressionless.  
  
He carefully picked out a skein of heavy-duty twine, a 200-pack of carpentry nails, three spray cans of some kind of household chemical substance, a butane torch lighter, and a box cutter, and dumped the items on the counter.  
  
"You using these on the guy that killed Jay?" Dante asked.  
  
Bob nodded.  
  
Dante punched the "VOID" button on the cash register. "OK. Good luck."  
  
Bob gathered up the items, dug in his pocket, and placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. "Not gonna need this." He strode purposefully out into the night.  
  
Randall tapped Dante on the shoulder. "You just let him take that stuff."  
  
"Well, he did leave a twenty," said Dante.  
  
"Yeah. He did leave a twenty."  
  
"Randall," Dante asked, "if someone killed me, what would you do?"  
  
"Well, what are my choices?"  
  
"I mean...Well, Bob is going out to kick the ass of the guy that killed Jay. Would you do that for me or would you just go on tending the store?"  
  
Randall thought about this for a few seconds. "Well, if you were going to get killed, it would be from a holdup at the store. And since we usually have the same shift, he'd probably kill me too, cause I'd be there. So, in answer to your question, if someone killed you I would probably lie there, not breathe, and bleed all over the floor."  
  
"That's all I wanted to know," said Dante. 


End file.
